


every night im dancing with your ghost

by Miyula



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, King GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Knight Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), M/M, Slow Dancing, kind of, theyre best friends but theyre in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:46:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28318449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miyula/pseuds/Miyula
Summary: i stay up all nighttell myself I'm alrightbaby, you're just harder to see than mosti put the record onwait 'til I hear our songevery night I'm dancing with your ghost
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 48





	every night im dancing with your ghost

**Author's Note:**

> happy holidays!
> 
> (and btw, if it wasnt obvious enough, dancing with your ghost by sasha sloan is the theme of this work, so go listen to it while reading, the song is the very reason why this work was created!!)

The quietness of midnight fell over the kingdom.

  
A flicker of luminescence lit up certain homes, scattering warmth to those who chose to stay up past recommended curfew. The winds were calm, the summer night forgiving towards life, allowing the need for open windows during twilight stages to be satiated.

  
The bright, ever comforting moon was high in the sky, taking the sun's place and shining down upon the town in a beautiful white glow. Its comrades, the twinkling, sparkling stars, danced to a song only they could hear, spinning around in different hues in a galaxy of colors.

  
George was one of the insomniacs, altough not by choice, perched on his windowsill, gazing upon a town he had a right to call his. The sleep his body craved minutes prior seemingly evaporated somewhere around the time the fresh breeze hit his face.

  
George was king, crowned by his best knight, a new ruler of a society he, at first, wasn't ready to order around. By the same knight that he was currently longing for, unsure of his whereabouts.

  
A skillful and powerful man named Dream, a name he gave himself to define his responsibility, ambition and hope, his want to make people happy and to be their light.

  
George brought his knees up to his chest, having a stare down with the moon, who almost looked to be taunting him, mocking him with how much it could shine, and how much George couldn't.

  
George and Dream were friends long before they knew what their future would be. 

  
The two had met on open fields unintentionally, both of them running away from their responsibilities as children, whether that was doing simple chores in the village or helping their parents around the house.

  
George recalls the two boys bonding over their struggles and interests, making some stupid pact about how they were forever best friends after this encounter. He scoffed, but a smile he didn't want on his face broke through the barrier.

  
Over time, they didn't only just grow up in terms or age and wisdom, they grew in friendship and loyalty to one another, pledging to always be there for the other in any time of need.

  
At some point during George and Dream's lifetime, the males got sick of their hometown and fled with a few friends. The group started with a few houses, a few bickering fights and laughs, a couple stargazes and multiple aspirations. And before George could even blink, the only residents weren't just his close friends, but multiple strangers as well. Hundreds of people George couldn't recognize came pilling in, seeking for a new life, just like he and Dream had sought after themselves.

  
They opened their arms wide and welcomed those deemed worthy. The runaway town was growing day by day, and it was only time until some rules were to be set upon the land everyone called their kingdom and their home.

  
Through a lot of debating and thousands of minutes worth of conversations, a new form of management was set in stone.

  
Before George could realize what was going on, all he saw was Dream smilling at him through a mask he wore since day one, placing a crown atop his head, and screaming into a packed crowd of people to welcome their first and new king; to people George knew, and to people he didn't.

  
George finally lowered his tired eyes from the blinding moon, turning his head back down and to the other side, staring at the otherwise empty room, save for a few pieces of furniture. 

  
The crown was thrown on his bed haphazardly, its jewels glistened in the moonlight, reflecting expensive crystals onto the opposite wall. The bed was perfectly made, despite having been laid in not too long ago.

  
The young king forced his attention elsewhere, regrettably landing on a set of a piano and guitar in the corner of his chamber. The instant memories it sparked made George cringe and tighten his hold on himself, wanting to crawl away from the pain he suddenly felt in his chest.

  
The recorder placed neatly next to George's owned instruments made his stomach turn in ways that weren't enjoyable and made his eyes tear up. The memories resurfaced, just like they have been doing for weeks, no matter how much George tried to push them away, lock them up, and pretend to be someone he wasn't.

  
A faint whisper of recollection made George melt, slowly give in to his past and feelings, despite not wanting to, despite desperately trying to claw his way out. He hated how his brain and heart never worked in unison, always fighting and making both his head and chest ache, to the point as if he was numbed enough to forget time, but not so much as to be unresponsive.

  
George neved knew how Dream looked, despite having known the taller male for most of his life. Truthfully, the king thought he'd never get to see his facial features beyond his mouth, until one day, when the two rid themselves of their personas as ruler and protector, turned back into two runaway boys instead, Dream had made a bold decision and revealed his identity.

  
It happened fast, it happened slow, and it happened completely unexpectedly.

  
There was nothing that led up to this grand reveal. No hints, no teasers, no time to prepare and no time for regret. It happened as though Dream suddenly felt the need to finally rip his second skin off, present himself raw and vulnerable, in front of someone he cared for, in front of someone he trusted.

  
George remembers having been left shocked, amazed and hypnotized. The striking emerald green eyes seemed to be glowing no matter what time it would be. The freckles could mimic George's stars in the sky above and put them to shame. The blonde hair would clash with his tan skin in the best way possible, and his smile somehow managed to look even more enticing combined with his eyes.

  
In short, George remembers his breath being taken away, followed by Dream's soft, shy laughter filling the room.

  
George stayed like that for what seemed like hours, just gazing upon his best friend's features, feeling his face heat up and his heart rate pick up. Once he had managed to pull out of whatever trance the knight before him had put George in, he tried to play it off, scoff shakily and mutter out a _you're ugly_ to hopefully try and save himself, however, either to George's disappointment or delight, they both knew it wasn't true, no matter how much George would deny it.

  
Dream never showed his face to anyone. That fact had swirled around within George's mind for months after the encounter, made him feel giddy and somewhat proud that Dream felt the need to expose himself to only George.

  
After that, whenever the two found time to hang out, the first thing Dream would do once they were alone in George's room was take off his mask or helmet, whatever he was feeling that day, and drop it listlessly beside him.

  
Ths sound of leaves rattling pulled George out of his thoughts and made him realize the heart beat he felt underneath his ribcage. It was fast and heavy, both keeping him awake and losing him at the same time.

  
His thoughts paned back to the recorder that had been haunting him for days upon days, yet comforting him better than anything else could simultaneously.

  
He wasn't sure if it was his mind playing tricks on him now, turning against him and his broken composure, but he swore he could hear music playing. The same soft, careful, and bittersweet tune of a combination of piano keys and guitar strings.

  
Other than his face, Dream also decided to reveal the fact that he could play just about anything.

  
George recalls himself screaming at the blond in trivial betrayal, demanding him to tell the young king what else he was hiding, but Dream had only laughed. Laughed those signature breaths of air only he could produce and told George that the only reason he hadn't ever mentioned it, was because it never came up, and that this was probably his last and only secret. George had smiled, sheepish and impressed, and pulled Dream over to his instruments, that were the sole reason for their current conversation, seeing as Dream had seen them poking out out of the corner of George's quarters.

  
In the spur of the moment, the two gently and with utmost care wheeled the piano out to be more visible, actually playable. It was now crammed in the corner, next to George's bed, but a safe distance away. George's room was incredibly big. And with controlled strengh, Dream was also able to rip the guitar out of his best friend's closet.

  
When the knight had finally gotten round to playing, after shifting from foot to foot anxiously and shaking with excitement, George had sworn he'd never been this enraptured. His gaze and thoughts and hearing only allowing everything related to Dream and music to register.

  
Granted, Dream had wheezed embarrassingly, stating that it had been a while since he last played, so the taller man was definitely out of shape in terms of notes and sounds, but George thought nothing badly of it, the melodies Dream played familiar to those of which children would sing in the early afternoon, running around in circles. It was simple, it was sweet, and George tried his best not to gush at the domestic atmosphere, even though he knew Dream probably noticed.

  
Now, almost all the time, whenether they had such, the duo would sprint to George's room, lock themselves in and listen to the presses of keys and strums of strings. Each and every moment George was smilling at Dream's shouts of excitement when he gradually got better. He had managed to remember certain songs he'd used fo perform, much more complicated ones, and George's heart would thud at every fun beat and flip at every romantic note.

  
Each song the knight played sounded heavenly, a breath of fresh air for George each time the melodic note resonated within his ears. He couldn't get enough of listening and Dream couldn't stop performing.

  
A recorder George had gotten once for his birthday was burried in his wardrobe, a recorder Dream convinced him to pull out after he had once again spotted it one early morning.

  
After long nights of practice, with George's encouragement and endless support, Dream had finally decided to record a certain melody.

  
A certain song he had produced from scratch, with emotional tunes and powerful cues, with George's help, for George.

  
The shock on George's face could never be repeated.

  
The felicity on Dream's couldn't be either.

  
George's eyes followed the spinning disk inside a big black box, each crevasse sounding out a note George had memorized Dream playing. He could hear Dream humming the emotion packed melody, his soft and low timbre making George well up in contentment and security.

  
That particular song, gifted for George and only for George, he was listening to ever since Dream vanished.

  
Immense pain wrapped around his heart whenever he thought about his disappearance, like thorns of roses or gashes from a sword impaling and sinking into his skin to get through to the beating left side of his chest.

  
Everything had been fine, there wasn't anything that went wrong within the kingdom or between the two of them. Nothing could have happened that would have made Dream run away.

  
At least that was what George had been telling himself all this time.

  
Closing his eyes momentarily had been a huge mistake, because as soon as he did, George saw a slideshow of the scenes he was just thinking of. He wanted to wrench his eyes wide, gouge them open as quick as he could, but it was no use. They were shut with a force George couldn't overpower.

  
He was left to suffer, forced to deal with his emotions in nothing else but memories.

  
When the song ended, George cried.

  
Dream was immediately by his side, his face morphed into that of confusion, fear, concern and hatred, although the hate was not directed at George.

  
He had wrapped the king tightly in his hold, so strongly, so close, that for a second George thought he had been lifted up from the ground, which, maybe, he had been.

  
Dream whispered quiet reassurances into George's left ear, listening to the sobs the older male let out, heart breaking shard after shard. It had been maybe less than fifteen minutes, but for Dream and George, it had felt like half a century had passed, before George stopped shaking like an autumn leaf, barely holding on to the branch it was connected to.

  
As he lifted his head from his knight's shoulder, stared into the vast emerald irises, he smiled as much as he could in his current predicament, and whispered so quietly, that if he hadn't been inches away from Dream's face, the taller boy would've most definitely missed it.

  
"No one's ever written me a song before."

  
Dream burst into tears, staring at George's glossy eyes, at his kind smile, his mouth as it moved to form words similar to _thank you_ , before falling back into the smaller male, afraid to let go.

  
When the both of them calmed down, the sun had set, setting them ablaze with the orange blanket covering the world. The coulds darkened in purple dust, scattered along the sky in feathery motions.

  
The town below was quiet, if there was little chatter, the duo couldn't hear it, being so high up. The children were tired, drawn back home by their parents, promises of letting them back outside tomorrow leaving their lips. Any leashless animals traveled home to their awaiting owners, and the occasional little chirp of a bird was the only clear thing they could decipher.

  
"Could you play for me again?"

  
The request was crystal. Simple, yet holding more power to it than a sword to a wound could. Dream sucked in a breath through his nose, hugging George tightly before letting go, a response circling his mind.

  
"Anytime, anywhere, for you."

  
The words were light, they lifted George up. He was high in the sky from the endless care, respect, and tenderness that Dream provided him. Never once turning him down on his wants and needs, never once turning a blind eye.

  
Not towards him.

  
Never towards him.

  
George stood still in the middle of the chamber, afraid that if he took just a single step, swayed the tiniest bit, he'd fall.

  
But he knew Dream would catch him if he did.

  
He would always catch him.

  
But he ground himself tall and straight, determined to not move, to breathe slowly and gently, to watch Dream carefully, as the blond picked up his guitar and carefully sat down on a chair not too close to George, but far away from any wall.

  
The guitar was technically George's, a faint whisper of something washed through the king's thoughts, it definitely was, but George didn't feel as though it could ever actually be his.

  
Not when he never touched the carved, wooden instrument, not when his hands couldn't move the same way Dream's could, not when he didn't even know how to hold it, and not when he knew that Dream had made that guitar his, with the way he handled it, played it and coaxed the perfect chords out of it.

  
The first strum of the metal strings had George racing back to life, away from the depths of his suffocating mind and towards the lively work of art before him.

  
As Dream hooked the first few strings, tuned in a way to mimick where there would be a piano playing, George felt himself disconnect from his body as a soul, mesmerized by the echoing strums bouncing in the corners of the quarters.

  
Before he could think, it had seemed like his body reacted to the increased flow of the music, suddenly ripping itself out of his still stance before the other male, and twirled himself around.

  
Dream lifted his head up, fingers going on autopilot as he subconsciously memorized the chords, and gazed at George and his growing grin.

  
The smaller male looked ethereal, brighter and shinier than any gem, warmer than any ray of the sun and more inviting than anything else Dream could think of.

  
His king was stunning. He was gorgeous and he was spinning.

  
Whirling for Dream, because of Dream.

  
George's mouth curled into a wide smile, once he captured Dream's gaze, however the better part of George's mind was still lost, watching from his eyes, yet somehow, someway, not from his own body.

  
His left leg pushed against the floor to make him twirl, and George didn't feel it, too light to register.

  
He was both connected and not, both aware and oblivious, both awake and asleep. He saw Dream stare, captured by the way George moved so freely, subconsciously knowing which way and what time to place his feet where. The king hoped to god the knight didn't notice his inner confusion and disoriented state.

  
Dream's fingers slowed and quieted down, asking in a smooth voice, the tiniest bit ragged from the previous crying.

  
"How come you dance so whimsically?" The sudden question made George still, feeling his gold and red and blue cape swish behind him with his movements, keeping pace but delayed by other forces.

  
"You're not the only one with secrets, Dream." George responded with a tease in his voice, feeling both confident and nervous.

  
The words left his lips, but George didn't feel as though he himself had said them. His body was getting further and further away from his mind, developing a conscious thought process of its own.

  
The brunet heard Dream whisper, ask in a terribly small voice, as if scared of George's answer, as if whatever question he wanted to ask would make George angry. It made George scoff internally, he could never be mad at Dream.

  
"I'm sorry, I didn't understand what you said. Could you repeat that, Dream?"

  
Dream's hands tightened against the guitar frame, and by then George had realized that the wonderful music stopped, his knight's fingers shaped in the way of which notes he should be playing, slightly shaking, but refusing to make sound. Either from nerves or from how strongly he was clenching the wood, George couldn't guess.

  
"I-I said," George saw Dream take a stuttering breath, "can you t-teach me?"

  
The question was strangled timidly, laced in the residue of Dream's anxiety.

  
George felt himself get rooted in time, staring at the blond's wavering eyes, feeling his own nerves come up. However, he pushed them down.

  
Now was not the time.

  
He cleared his throat as much as he could, and with a smile that he couldn't feel, George responded.

  
"Of course, why should I ought to decline?" He worded his sentence in a rhetorical question, sensing more than seeing the way the color poured itself back into Dream's face. The way his hands finally relaxed and his shoulders dropped, the way his eyes turned into such a lovely shade of green, George thought he could stare at them forever and never get bored.

  
Before he could blink, the taller boy was putting the guitar down, and gently walking back to the recorder. His hand moved, and the handle was fixed back into its starting position, a button press away from starting the melody all over again.

  
Dream pressed the button.

  
George observed the way the man before him turned around, facing the much shorter male. He stared, fixated on his green, green eyes, and felt himself exhale when Dream was all of a sudden just a few inches away.

  
George steeled himself quickly, watching Dream's unsure expression, feeling his worry in not knowing what to do.

  
Reaching out, George tenderly held Dream's soft hand. He brushed against the scars with his own, before finaly lacing their fingers together, feeling the way both of their pulses jumped and matched in tempo.

  
The other palm extended and grabbed Dream's wrist, drawing it towards George's waist and making it curl around the small of his back. Bringing his hand up, George rested it upon the blond's shoulder. The action made them step closer to each other, the gaze they kept up making their minds tangle in thoughts and feelings.

  
Finally, _finally,_ after what felt like ages, George felt himself return to his body, just in time for the music to start from the vinyl and to feel Dream tighten his hold on George's waist and hand, unsure of what do to or how to move.

  
George chuckled wholeheartedly, making Dream look at him with a frazled expression, big blown eyes, and a loopsy grin on his face. He was trying so hard not to shake and keep his expression manageable, but now that they were essentially connected, George couldn't help but laugh his hiccuping laughter louder, looking his best friend right in his eyes, reassuring him that everything was fine with a sparkle in his eye and his hand on the other's shoulder pressing into his shoulder blade softly.

  
Both of them suddenly heard the light cackle of vinyl, before the soulful piano filled the room, accompanying their slow breaths.

  
For George, words never explained as much as actions did. So he didn't talk, only signaled for Dream to sway side to side mildly, smiling in a way he only did for Dream.

  
Safe, happy, and giddy.

  
Dream picked up quickly, visibly relaxing, pulling George even closer to himself. As the beat of the guitar suddenly kicked in, George took the initiative to extract himself from Dream's hold, taking his hands with him and suddenly spinning himself on his heels, ending up with his back to the taller's chest momentarily, before twirling back around to face his best friend, continuing the swaying movements, yet slightly quicker, timed to the the strums.

  
Dream looked astonished, flushed with amazement and contentment, his eyes holding adoration like no other, so big, so honest, that George felt like combusting, like the attention wasn't meant for him.

  
And yet, it was.

  
The music quieted down again, taking a simple approach to sound once more.

  
Feeling confident, this time it was Dream who initiated the dance. His hold on George grew tenfold, before twisting the both of them around, confidence only growing when he felt George sound out a happy noise, followed by laughter. His hand was squeezed in a smaller palm, the hand on his upper back curling more and more, until it was around his neck.

  
The two laughed shyly, hearts bursting at the seams with ecstasy and heads clouded with joy.

  
They swayed some more here and there, neither of the two minding, the rocking side to side seemingly like the perfect movement to their song.

  
Their song, a song for them.

  
George felt himself tear up again, leaning his head on Dream's shoulder, gripping their interconnected hands with a fierce hold, in no terms wanting to let go.

  
George bracketed in on himself, as sobs ripped through his body in thunders, as the feeling of drowning and burning alive raced throughout his insides, breaking him torturously.

  
Where had Dream gone?

  
Why was he here, thinking about them dancing between wails and weeps, instead of them linking hands and twirling again?

  
Why was he here, and Dream was nowhere near?

  
The day after their dance Dream was nowhere to be found.

  
George had been confused as to where his best friend could've gone to, as he couldn't find him anywhere. The man wasn't in his room, wasn't on patrols, no one had seen him all morning and no one knew where he was.

  
George searched every nook and crany he could, asking his friends and citizens if they'd seen the tall, mighty knight.

  
But he couldn't find him anywhere.

  
He had vanished without a trace.

  
George gave it a day before announcing that Dream had gone missing. He screamed at his close friends that Dream wouldn't just leave like that, he justified that the man had no reason, that he'd come back as if he'd just taken a long stroll, however the tears he felt building up wouldn't stop rolling down his face and drip on to the quartz floor.

  
His head spun, not in the way he spun when he danced with Dream, not in the way it would spin when George would feel happy.

  
It hurt, it stung, he felt like he was going to throw up. His hands were gripping each other's forearms with a strength he couldn't comprehend, and his legs were shaking as if he was experiencing a nightmare.

  
"Hey, hey, I'm here, it's alright." He felt more than heard a soft voice speaking to him.

  
George's weeps of pain got stronger, he was sure his throat was raw from how loud he wailed.

  
However, his mind went towards the sweet tone of voice, despite George internally screaming not to.

  
The king wanted to slap himself, hit and hurt himself, _anything,_ to make himself snap out of it. But it was too late. His mind had succumb to the past, blocking out George's cries and allowing Dream's kind timbre to settle in.

  
George lifted his head towards the blond, an apology on his lips for crying again, when he saw the man shake his head with a smile prettier than any flower George had ever been gifted to.

  
It was better than any moment George had the pleasure to experience. The warm hand left George's palm, and for a second George wanted to cry harder, but then that same hand touched his flushed and damp cheek, and the king's knees almost buckled.

  
Dream's thumb caressed the wet cheek, wiping away scorching tears, fighting his own building up in the corners of his eyes. George leaned in, taking a shaky breath in and letting one out, bringing the arm that Dream had left behind up to grasp the wrist softly.

  
"You're alright, George. I'm here, I'm always here, I am." George thought that maybe Dream struggled to get that out, as if once he opened his mouth the waterfalls would spill.

  
But George certainly broke, choking on the utter _love_ in Dream's touch, the benign look in his forest green eyes hypnotizing George into a safe and comforting space, leading him into their own little bubble, away from responsibilities and worries.

  
Suddenly, the hand left his face, going back to grip the brunet's palm, bringing him in plush, only to step back and spin George in such a way that he would've flown to the window from the strength that rushed through his veins, if Dream weren't holding him.

  
The tears evaporated and a smile plastered itself onto George's expression, the playfulness springing back to life into his movement and emotion.

  
The music increased in a way that made both of them laugh, this time George having enough and pulling Dream next to him when he twirled, the younger boy laughing in George's hair, holding him close, so close, that if they fell, they'd fall together.

  
The beat of the guitar was powerful and loud, but not as loud as both of their beating hearts, pounding so hard the duo thought their chests would explode.

  
The euphoria George felt could never be matched after this, he knew. The image of himself in Dream's arms and Dream in his, could never erase itself from within his mind and George didn't want it to.

  
He felt like they were stepping into new territory with each other, and for _once_ in his life, George didn't mind. Dream didn't either. The hold they had on each other was safer than any armour on a battle field, greater than any medicine.

  
The song was coming to a close, the both of them knew. They didn't want it to end, wanted the melodic tune to continue for the rest of their lives, through dreams and nightmares, through days and nights, through life and death and love and pain.

  
On the ending strums, George felt as if his lungs got their breath stolen from them, taken in a way only Dream could manage to do, as he felt his waist be released and spun around in a circle, before the hand clenching his tightened the hardest it had this entire evening, and George was flung to the side, extended within arms lengh staring in sudden joy and surprise at his golden partner who was no longer there.

  
George blinked, a frown slowly clawing itself onto his expression.

  
Dream was no longer there.

  
The hold on his palm was instantly gone, and the sudden coldness of his room seeped through his clothing and into his blood, making his head spin in a way that wasn't from how Dream brought him in circles tirelessly time and time again.

  
The familiar layout of his own quarters surrounded him, but dark, suffocated, drowing in pure colorless moonlight, instead of painted in gold and tangerine, every corner filled with laughter and soft voices.

  
His arm lowered, clinging onto nothing but air, his body losing balance and almost falling over.

  
He stared where he should have been staring, into Dream's forest and pine toned irises, counting the freckles on his face only he was allowed to see, holding him closer and only closer.

  
But he stared at an empty wall.

  
The room was void of another life, a life George couldn't see anymore.

  
Void of Dream, his presence gone like a flicker of a blown out flame, extinguished, astray.

  
Through his grief-stricken confusion, George heard a quiet recorder still next to his instruments, playing that very last strum in his favorite song.

  
It all came crashing down on him.

  
It had happened again.

  
_Again_ George had mindlessly wondered over to the _godforsaken_ vinyl player while trapped in his memories, putting the aching song on, dancing in the middle of his room along to his recollections, entranced by the feelings he felt.

  
His bottom lip trembled, and it was only then the king realized he never stopped crying, that Dream never wiped away his tears, not like how he did the first time, that he never held him close while they danced minutes before.

  
Dream was never here, and George spun alone, convinced by his thoughts he was dancing with his knight. 

  
He had danced with a ghost, a ghost cold and empty, vacant of any emotions.

  
The room was quiet now, so silent that George swore time stopped, before his knees finally came and the damn broke.

  
He yelled into the night, screamed at the world for keeping secrets, crumpled to the ground and cried to the resonating strum of a guitar in his mind, waiting for the sunrise to swallow him whole and make him face another day without his other half.

  
Waiting to cry another night, put the record on, and dance with the ghost of his best friend.

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! hope you enjoyed reading this <3
> 
> ill first start off by saying that royalty aus are the best however i am SHIT at them because of the way they are written by (usually) using old english,, at least to some extent. i am not the best at that!!! and english isnt my first language so it may not the most accurate royalty fic however i tried my best and im actually pretty proud of how it came out!
> 
> ill probably have to read some old english books to continue getting better and such but i really hope you liked this work :]]
> 
> thank you for taking the time to read, and most importantly, happy holidays!!


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